


New Experiences

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius has never really had friends before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Experiences

Marius’ walk home that evening was a slow, comfortable one, and he smiled to himself as he thought of his charming Ursule, of her beautiful smiles and her yet prettier hair, enchanted by the very thought of her. It was a warm evening, and he was happy as he made his way back to Courfeyrac’s apartment.

He opened the door and stepped in, and then froze.

"I don’t think you are correct in that at all, my good friend,  _I_  think that you should be lighter on him. He means very well, after all-“

"He is weak." Enjolras’ voice was plain and obvious to Marius’ ear - he knew it very well, and now he considered it he recognized Combeferre’s gentle tones before it. "He is weak, and he lacks patience, sobriety, and worth. If we could afford it I would throw him from the Musain whenever he arrived."

"Enjolras." Courfeyrac’s utterance was reproachful. "Grantaire is a good man."

"He is a fool." Marius carefully closed the door and then opened it again, pressing it a little harder so that it would creak, and when he stepped inside this time, the three leaders of  _les amis de l’ABC_ did not talk on. 

”Marius?” Courfeyrac called.

"I’m home!" Pontmercy replied, and he closed the door behind him before stepping inside, removing his coat and his gloves casually as if he had not overheard some of their conversation. He hoped the heat in his cheeks would not give him away. "Oh." He said. "Hallo, Combeferre, Enjolras."

"Hello, Marius." Combeferre greeted in a quiet, but not unpleasant tone. Enjolras merely nodded. They were both settled on Courfeyrac’s couch, Enjolras with a glass of wine grasped in his slender hand, Combeferre studying a pamphlet for errors. 

"Ah, he blushes." Courfeyrac commented, his grin a teasing one as he added, "He has seen his lover tonight, I might imagine." Marius’ scarlet flush intensified, and Combeferre laughed a little. 

"Is she pretty?" He asked, and Pontmercy nodded. "Her name?"

"Ursule." Pontmercy said, and he grinned, putting from his mind the talk he’d heard of Grantaire as he set about removing his coat and setting it neatly aside.

"A charming name."

"It means  _she-bear_ _.”_ Enjolras commented helpfully, and then he bowed his head and said nothing more. Combeferre elbowed him gently in the side, teasing, fond, and Enjolras smiled.

Pontmercy did not think he’d seen Enjolras smile before, and the sight was an astonishing one - Enjolras’ grin was enchanting, full of teeth and plump lips, and his little chuckle was positively angelic. He felt like he was intruding upon something sacred, and perhaps he was.

The wine glass in Enjolras’ hand, the way his cravat was loosened and hanging barely tied at his neck. Combeferre’s sleeves were rolled up and his glasses were perched upon his head, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Even Courfeyrac looked more relaxed than usual, grinning and sipping at his drink from where he’d settled on the floor in front of Combeferre and Enjolras.

"Am I interrupting something?" Marius asked suddenly, and he bit his lip, worrying the skin there. Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, but Combeferre elbowed him hard enough to wind him, and certainly hard enough to shut him up. 

"Not at all, Marius, come, join us, have a glass of wine." And Combeferre shifted to the side, creating space between him and Enjolras on the sofa. Courfeyrac readily poured him some of the vermillion liquid from the green bottle before holding it out, and Pontmercy took it before politely settling on the couch.

Enjolras fixed Combeferre with a perplexed look, but Pontmercy did not comment on it. “How are your studies?” Combeferre asked, and Pontmercy blinked at him.

"They go well enough. I mostly occupy myself with study, or with the translation work."

"Is that hard?" Combeferre asked, looking between he and Courfeyrac with an obvious curiosity, and Courfeyrac shrugged.

"It gets easier with each commission, I find."

"I would say so." Pontmercy agreed, uncertain what the goal of this little conversation was. "Much of them have the same words and sentence constructions, so once you have them learned, it gets yet easier." Combeferre nodded, thoughtful. 

Pontmercy felt again that he was interrupting something important, and surely he  _was_ , because the three of them were obviously having a meeting, and he was in the  _way_  and he was stopping them from talking properly. Marius’ lip quivered.

"Don’t worry so, Marius." Courfeyrac said, sprawling on the floor and tapping Pontmercy’s ankle with his foot. "You’re quite alright amongst us three. Except Enjolras, maybe, but me and Combeferre will protect you from his harassment." He winked, and Pontmercy flustered, his cheeks red. 

"No, no, I didn’t, I mean, you’d never- I’m just sorry if I’m interrupting-"

"It’s quite alright." Enjolras said, and he took a sip of his drink. "Courfeyrac is right: you worry yourself too much."

"Relax, Marius, you are as tight-coiled as a spring." Combeferre said, nudging him lightly with his own knee. "You’re among friends.

"But am I interrupting? I could go, I could go out-"

"Don’t." Courfeyrac said, regarding Pontmercy with a plaintive look. "Come, stay, chat with us. We were about to eat."

"A-alright." Marius said, and he settled obediently as Courfeyrac moved to grab bread and some butter, and they settled to eat, comfortable enough each of them barring Marius, who remained someone stiff and unsure what to say. 

"Marius, just because we don’t agree with you politically doesn’t mean we’re going to box your ears should you dare speak." Combeferre said, and Marius shifted in his seat, unsure how to respond to Combeferre knowing his worry exactly.

"I overheard you." He confessed. "When I came in, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-"

"It’s quite fine." Enjolras said firmly. "Marius, you are intelligent, curious, well-studied and earnest. You try your best, you are loyal, and I would trust you with my very life - if you pointed a pistol to my head, Pontmercy, I would trust you not to shoot me." Marius stared at him. "We are conversing as friends. Join us. You needn’t fuss or worry or make yourself anxious. Though I would-" Enjolras shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I would ask you not repeat what I said of Grantaire. It is-" He regarded Combeferre and Courfeyrac with some obvious irritation. "It was untrue. I would trust Grantaire with my life so much as I would trust mine with you, Marius. My life, perhaps, although not a revolution."

"You see, Marius?" Courfeyrac said in an easy, joking tone. "Enjolras is as fond a fool as you or I or Combeferre." Marius laughed a little, taking a drink of his wine.  

"I see." He said, and then he let himself drift into easier conversation, talking with the other three men as equals. Later, after Combeferre and Enjolras had gone, he lay in bed, thoughtful under the covers. "Courfeyrac? Are you awake?"

"I’m awake." Courfeyrac’s voice came from the darkness, where he was settled in the other bed. "What is it, my friend?"

"Do you think they like me? Properly?"

"Oh, Marius." Courfeyrac said. "We all like you very much. Even Grantaire likes you, and moreover, he is willing to be obvious about it." 

"Oh." Marius said, and he felt his cheeks flush in the dark, and he was glad Courfeyrac could not see them.

"Why ever is that so surprising?"

"Why, I’ve never really had friends before." Marius said, and Courfeyrac let out a soft sigh Marius barely caught, even in the silence of the room.

"Well you have them now." He said firmly. "And you shall have us until our deaths." Marius smiled and was silent, closing his eyes and fixing readily enough to sleep.

"Thank you." He said, and Courfeyrac’s response, after several minutes had passed, was a snore.


End file.
